There are No Stars in the Sky
by Fall into Fantasy
Summary: Katniss/Peeta are in a highly emotional state, scarred from the arena. But with the Victory Tour and becoming mentors soon looming, they must find a way to heal and play the Capitol's game; which takes highly unexpected turns. *CHAPTER 5 UP*
1. paint is like blood

**there are no stars in the sky**

1. paint is like blood splattering the canvas

I push through the leaves of the trees and bushes, not really knowing where I'm going. This place is familiar; but everything seems out of place, a misplaced rock, or an oddly shaped tree. When I finally push out of the leaves, I see them. Katniss and Rue. Katniss is on her knees, Rue's head in her lap as she sings a song, tears streaking down her face. _What am I doing here? _I think to myself. My eyes journey downward, knowing what I'll find there. Katniss has explained it so many times I can actually picture the scene, despite me not being there. My gaze lands on her stomach. The spear. Embedded into her body, Rue's limbs curled inward. Her eyes slowly closing. Katniss standing up, gathering flowers, placing them in her hair, around her wound. She sinks down onto her knees when she's finished, and that's when I see Cato coming out from behind her. I try to open my mouth to scream and warn her, but no sound escapes me. Cato lifts his sword up. Why won't she turn around? Katniss is always so vigilant, so aware of her surroundings; she notices everything. But Rue is distracting her, and she doesn't see Cato behind her. Surely she would have thought of this, of someone trying to sneak up on her while she mourns Rue's death. She would have remembered that she was in the Games, and that out in the open was no place to be. Or maybe she's just too devoured by grief to notice anything.  
Cato's sword, coming down.  
And everything goes dark.  
I hear a scream, the shuffling of feet as he runs away, toward a hiding place so others won't find him.  
The mockingjay's warning call.

*V*

I wake up gasping, tangled in my sheets, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. I look at the clock on my bedside table: 12:01. The nightmares always keep me up. I haven't had a full night's sleep in a long time; but tonight was a good night. Normally I wake up within an hour of falling asleep, so when I get two, it's a good night, three, a great night. I pull my bare legs over the side of the bed, breathing heavily. I stumble up, wandering toward my closet. I tug the door open, fumbling for my white dress shirt that Portia left behind, because she had to leave with Cinna to the Capitol in a hurry- there was some sort of emergency with our costumes.

For the Victory Tour. Three days left.

It's been hard adjusting to my new house in the Victor's Village. It's foreign; different. Different then my home at the bakery. The shock of living somewhere new only adds to my unwillingness to sleep. The only upside is that Katniss and Haymitch are nearby. They're my family now.

I pull the shirt on, rolling up the sleeves, leaving it unbuttoned; no one's going to see me at this hour, and it's more comfy that way. The vivid paint splatters wrinkle up as I move toward the door.  
The hallway is dark, shadows sweeping the walls. I start walking to my right, keeping my hand on the wall, so I won't trip, until I get to the stairs, and make my way down to the living room. I creep down each step, being careful to avoid the ones that creak. I don't want to wake up my parents.  
The door to the basement is in the kitchen, next to the door leading outside. It's big; bigger than you'd at first think, but no one goes down there. They all know it's my place of solitude, where I go when the outside world becomes too much to handle. I ease the door open, slipping in through just a tiny crack.  
I shiver. It's chilly down here. I probably should've put on some pants, instead of coming down here in just a thin dress shirt and my briefs. When I reach the cement floor, the cold makes my bare feet tense, but I like the cold now. Ever since that time in the arena when I had a fever I hate being hot. The cold will help my body heat come down and dry the sweat on my skin.  
I walk over to the corner, grab a canvas from the floor, and place it on my easel. It's placed in the corner next to a window near the ceiling, so I can open it and paint whatever's outside. I walk over and reach up, stretching my arms so I can reach the latch that keeps the window locked, and gently push it, watching it spring up. Small snowflakes swirl inside, carryed in by the wind. It must have just started, because the grass is untouched, still withered and brown from the winter's touch.  
I'm not painting anything outside tonight; I just need some fresh air. I pick up my brush, spin it in brown paint; and start to coat the canvas.


	2. i don't have pictures

2. i don't have pictures, but i have memories

I always thought it was strange; how I can only remember different memories at different times. I always told myself that I'd always remember every second I'd spent with my father; but I find that I can only remember certain moments with him at certain times. Lately it's been harder to think of him, like all my moments with him are slipping through my fingers. All my memories have been engulfed by memories of Rue, how I couldn't save her, how she looked when the boy from District 1 drove the spear into her stomach…

The Games are taking over my mind, stealing away all my thoughts. I can't picture Prim, only Rue. Not my father, only Cato. Even though I won them, I can't forget them; the Victory Tour's in just three days; the Capitol's sick way of making sure we don't forget them.

When we returned home, my mother, Prim and I moved into our new house in the Victor's Village. It's been hard, sleeping in a new bed. I push up from my seat on the windowsill, creeping my way around my bed to the door and into the hall. Everything is so crisp and new, so sometimes when I get home I wipe my fingers covered in dirt on the white walls, and then clean it off. It always stays white, never has a stain or a smudge left over afterwards.

I walk down the stairs, stopping at the laundry room to pull on a large coat that covers me down to my ankles and my leather boots. While passing the living room, I stop. Prim is lying on the floor, in front of a glowing fire. And suddenly, it comes back: _"Katniss, you always need to be careful with fire," my father says, "it has a mind of its own; it can quickly engulf anything in its path." We're sitting in front of the fire, at our house in the Seam. His arms are around me, and we're wrapped in a blanket. "It's very dangerous, fire," he says. My mother comes from behind us, kisses our foreheads. She's holding Prim's small form, and she sits next to us, the fire igniting her face. Her smile._

I grin at the memory. _If only he could see me now,_ I think. Girl on fire.

I step through the kitchen door, into the cold night air. There are no stars tonight; the sky's covered in clouds. I make my way down the row of houses, past where Haymitch lives, toward the City Circle. Everything is peaceful tonight, like there is no Victory Tour, no Games. A world without the Capitol. Gentle snowflakes swirl downward, the calm before the storm.

On my right, one of the basement windows is open. I make my way towards it, shivering from the cold air. I lean down, lying on my stomach. Peeta's standing next to his easel, in just an unbuttoned white dress shirt and grey briefs, his slightly muscular legs pale in the small amount of moonlight. His face is soft; full of emotion, but still calm. He's painting and entire canvas brown, his hands and arms covered in splatters of paint.

*V*

"Can I join you?" I whirl around, my shirt flying open. Katniss is lying on her stomach, her face peeking in at me through the window. I relax. I always think the Capitol is watching me, and that any second they'll jump out and take me away. "Sure." I watch as she gets up, sticks her big boots through the small opening and inches in, jumping to the floor. When she hits the ground, she stumbles a bit, so I rush up and catch her in my arms. For a second our eyes meet. Her silvery grey eyes staring into my face. "You ok?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." She gets up and walks over to my easel, eyeing the variety of colors I have. "So much paint everywhere," she says, looking at me. "And some on your face."

Face? I don't have any paint on my face. "Wha-?" I start, but she suddenly sticks her fingers in a can of red paint, and flings it at me, the liquid splattering all over my face. She laughs, shrugging off her jacket and throwing it on the floor in the opposite corner of the room. She's in lavender silk pajamas, her shorts ending just above her knees. I grab the paint closest to me, brown, and throw it at her. "Ahhh!" she squeals, laughing and covering her face with her hands so it doesn't get into her eyes. "That's not fair," I say, "You got paint in _my_ face, so now I have to get some in _yours_." I pick up the green can, grab her from behind, trapping her arms. "No fair: You're stronger than me!" she laughs. I scoop up some of the paint, and throw it in her face. She breaks free, laughing, her black hair twirling around her as she moves. She grabs blue paint and starts flinging it at me. The yellow paint is closest, so I grab it and start throwing it at her; we're both laughing, trying our hardest to evade each other's throws while trying to hit each other. Finally I hit her in the chest, and it goes all over her stomach and arms.

She sends a paintball flying, and it hits my chest, coating my bare skin and stomach. We're both screaming and laughing so hard and for a moment, there are no more Games. No Victory Tour. No Capitol to control us, just us two, in the cold basement, snowflakes flying in.

I sink down onto the ground, breathing heavily, leaning on the wall. Katniss comes over and sits next to me, collapsing in my arms. Her head is resting o my shoulder, my head resting on hers. I reach over to the side and grab a painting tarp, pulling it over us. We sit in each other's arms, oblivious to the cold, and I look around. The floor, the walls, even a little bit of the ceiling, is covered in spots of paint. I hold her closer, and we sleep.

**I'll always switch views between Peeta and Katniss, unless otherwise noted. So, next chap will be Katniss again. This story will be long, with lots of juicy twists. I also have school, so I'm sorry if I don't update all the time, but I'll do it at least once a week.**


	3. my stylist is better

3. my stylist is better than yours

When I wake, the room is dark, the light covered up by the dense clouds that sweep the sky. The basement is still dark, but not as much as last night. I look to my right, and see that a thin sheet of ice has frozen over where the window should be closed, so no more snow is coming in. I look up, and see Peeta's face, his eyes closed, so peaceful. That's when I realize; I didn't wake up, disturbed by my mind. And I didn't feel Peeta rustle from beneath me.

We didn't have nightmares.

It's so comfy, calming in his arms, pressed up close against him, just like in the sleeping bag in the arena. Those times were one of the few good things about the Games. His ashy blonde hair is spread down the side of his head, the ends fraying everywhere in a frenzy, but it looks organized. Not messy and tangled, like Gale's gets sometimes. I place my head on his shoulder; it's surprisingly comfortable, I'm not cold at all and his skin is soft against mine, despite the rough spots of paint. I don't care that I have to meet Cinna in a few hours, that Gale is waiting for me in the woods, that my mother is probably wondering where I am.

I feel Peeta move beneath me, and I turn to see his eyes open. It takes him a second to realize where he is, but when he sees me, a small smile breaks across his face. "Good morning," he says.

"Morning, sleepyhead," I say, ruffling his hair. I pull my hand back, and see his hair covering his eyes.

"You look all messy now," I laugh. Peeta pushes the hair out of his eyes, and it falls back to what it looked like a second ago, but just a little more disheveled. My hand falls back down under the tarp, landing on his bare stomach. That's when I realize we're both half-naked. I know I should be freaked out; I just slept with a boy practically naked. But it doesn't bother me. It's Peeta. He's just so…innocent, pure, and real. Not fake. Like I can be more myself around him, let out my 'fun' side like I do with Prim.

Funny, how I find Peeta real, yet he spills endless lies to all of Panem all the time.

I can even feel a little bit of muscle on his smooth stomach. At least he's getting stronger. When we started the Games, he was stocky and muscular. After practically dying in the arena, he was weaker, slimmer. It's good that he's getting his muscle back; even his legs are starting to form again. Now he's skinny, but still strong; it doesn't show on him, so he doesn't look gigantic and overly muscular. I like it. He looks better that way; it suits him more than a muscular form like Gale's.

"How are you gonna get out?" Peeta asks, gesturing with his head to the frozen snow blocking the window.

"I don't want to leave," I say. He smiles.

"How can you go without my parents seeing you?"

"Who cares if your parents see me?"

He laughs. "Don't you think they'll be a little suspicious? After all, I'm in my underwear and a thin shirt and you're in…that," he says, waving a hand at my pajamas.

"But they're more comfy," I retort. "Just because I act serious and hard all the time doesn't mean I sleep like that."

"I know. You're pretty when you sleep. You're face isn't as troubled."

I start to get up, pulling Peeta with me. His briefs rode up a little when he was asleep, so he pulls the ends down a bit; and I grab his hand and drag him toward the stairs, his dress shirt flowing out behind him. I see him shiver. "What?" I ask.

"I'm not exactly dressed in a big bundle of clothes." I see his bare feet. I forgot. I'm wearing boots, and he has nothing on; it must be colder for him. I start taking my boots off for him, leaning on the stair rail. "No, Katniss," he says, a genuine look of concern on his face. "You'll get sick." That serious look on his face is sweet, and it sparks something in me. I lean in and kiss him on the cheek. He seems surprised; I guess he didn't expect to get anymore of those after the Games. I didn't expect to be giving them.

I remember my jacket on the floor and run to grab it. With it draping on my arm, I tug Peeta up the stair way. I peer out the door, Peeta peering above me; he's just a little bit taller than I am. We hear a commotion at the front door to the left and I hear Peeta's mom. "-I don't know where he is. He's always disappearing to who knows where." She walks forward, followed by about five people. Peeta's breathe catches. "Portia!" he whispers. It occurs to me that I've never actually seen Portia; only head Cinna talk about her. We back up, closing the door a little more. Peeta's mom leads Portia and her prep team into the kitchen; a roundish woman stands in front of the fridge that's next to the door and leans on the island in the middle of the room. She's big, not overweight, but she also isn't freakishly skinny like some of the people in the Capitol. In fact, the fat makes her look homey, nice. She turns around, looking for something, and her eyes catch us. I freeze.

"Mrs. Mellark, would you please show my prep team to Peeta's room? I'll be up in a second," the round woman asks. Peeta's mother walks out of the kitchen and into the entryway and up the stairs, the prep team following her. The woman, who I assume is Portia, turns toward us and we open the door. No doubt we musts look strange to her; I'm in tiny pajamas and Peeta's in an unbuttoned shirt and briefs, and we're both splattered with paint. She leans in towards me. "Hurry. They'll be down any second. Cinna's waiting for you at your house." This statement alone makes me oddly happy. She's not going to tell anyone, or ask any questions. I lean forward, give her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, and make my way out the kitchen door.

*V*

Outside, I pull my jacket on. It's cold out here, so cold, my breathe forms in little wispy clouds. It wasn't the best idea to venture out in only pajamas. But I spent time with Peeta. That makes it easier to stand the cold.

When I get to my house, I step quietly in through the kitchen door, throwing my coat in the living room. My mother comes rushing down the stairs. "Where were you?" she demands.

"In the basement," I say. It's partly true.

"Basement?" she asks, more than a little bit confused. We keep extra things down there; medicine supplies, blankets, pillows. "I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to wake you and Prim up." Her face softens.

"The nightmares again?" I nod, even though last night was the one time I didn't have them.

She ventures over and loops her arm through mine. "Come. Cinna's waiting for you in your room." Although my mother despises anyone from the Capitol, she likes Cinna. Thinks he isn't too far-fetched like most everyone in the Capitol. She thinks he's normal.

When we arrive at my room, I see Cinna talking with Octavia, gesturing to a sketch he's holding in his hand. She's nodding, apparently agreeing with whatever he's saying. I can't help but grin. Ever since we got back home from the Games, I've been talking to Cinna on the phone. But it's been such a long time since I've seen him person. He's my friend. My only friend besides Peeta, Haymitch, and Rue from the Games. He looks up, sees me, and smiles. I rush over to him, and wrap him in a hug. "I missed you," I say. He laughs. "I missed you too. Come sit down. You have a lot of clothes to try on; we have to get you dressed for the Tour. And we have to prepare you. Have you done everything I've asked?" Before I returned home, Cinna asked me not to touch my hair, keep my nails clean, and keep my leg hair shaved. "For the most part," I answer shyly. He breathes out. "I suppose we could take extra time to fix things." A sudden thought comes to me. "Cinna, why are you here? You usually wait until my prep team fixes me until you see me."

"Why are you covered in paint?" I tense. I forgot about the paint. No doubt my mother noticed.

"Um-ah," I stammer, but he laughs it off. "If you must know, I have many ideas for your clothes, and I need to try them out while they're fresh." He raises his eyebrows at me, moths a silent question. In answer, I nod.

He knows me too well. He knows I spent the night with Peeta. Who else do I know that paints? Who else do I know that I could've snuck out to see? Certainly not Madge; wouldn't want to upset the mayor. Certainly not Gale; we may be close friends, but it's just something that doesn't happen. And most certainly not Haymitch; the last time I swa him he was staggering around and bumping into walls. He's alright when he's sober, but he hardly is anymore. He gets like that when but events come up, and he'll get special attention this year because of the Quarter Quell; which occur every twenty-five years and which Haymitch won the first of.

Wait…snuck out? I went for a walk and saw Peeta, so I spent some time with him. Something must be wrong with me if I'm starting to define 'midnight walks' as 'sneaking out'.

Peeta's the only answer. At least Cinna spoke to me discreetly, didn't reveal it to my entire team. It's not bad though. We used to sleep together before the Games, but now that they're over I think no one expects us to.

While my prep team, Octavia, Venia, and Flavius, works on cutting my nails and fixing my hair, Cinna shows me the wardrobe he has planned for me on the Victory Tour.

The first outfit is a deep red dress with flecks of gold that shimmer when the fabric moves; to be worn when I attend the dinners hosted in all of the districts. The next is simpler; an orange strapless skirt that I can wear with my hunting boots, which is a first. All of my outfits still keep the same theme- I am still, girl on fire.

Cinna must show mw at least a dozen outfits before he says we're down for the day. "We didn't even show you a sliver of everything we have for you!" Octavia says, packing up all her supplies. Cinna and my prep team will be staying in one of the empty houses in the Village. I tried to get him to stay in our house, but he refused; he didn't want to intrude on us.

Tomorrow I get to try on my outfits, then the next day I get to rehearse my speeches with Effie, my escort, then it's on the train for the Tour.

I hope the days go by slowly.


	4. the best kind of poison

**This chapter is dedicated to my best friend, Castella. Happy Birthday, my darling! I hope you have a spectacular day. I know this chapter is short, but there are many devious things to come… And, she's a member of this site. I'll leave you to guess who. *devious smile* Now , on with the show…**

T H E R E **A R E** N O **S T A R S** I N **T H E** S K Y

4. the best kind of poison keeps you alive as you slowly die

The train station is old, but not as beaten down as some of the other buildings here in District 12. Because of the trains coming through for the Tour and the Games every year, the station has retained some of its longevity. There's a large clock in the center of the station, outside on the tower that stands in the middle. I glance upward at it; the train will be here any minute.

There are still clouds overhead, swirling grey; they look like they're heading south. The storm will be following us.

Katniss is behind me, saying teary goodbyes to her mother and Prim. She said goodbye to Gale at her house; even though he's supposed to be her cousin, most find him too handsome, and 'rugged' to just be her 'cousin'. It wouldn't be convincing to the Capitol if she was more affectionate toward Gale than me.

Katniss walks over and stands next to me, looping her hand through mine. She's smiling, playing the cameras for Panem. More than once I've wondered if those smiles were real; which ones were fake.

More than once I've wondered if she really loves me.

But I can see it in her eyes; a worried expression, panic littering the silvery surface. She's thinking of Gale. Of Prim, her mother, if they'll be safe.

That night a few days ago was one of those times when Katniss got close to me, like sometimes a part of her actually wants to be with me.

The other part, the one that hunts in the woods and won the Hunger Games last year, is the one that shows up the most.

The train that's going to take us around the country is sleek and shiny, built for speed. We have to cover a lot of ground each day to make it to each district. Our stylists and prep teams go inside first, then Katniss, and finally, me.

I watch as District 12 becomes a small dot on the horizon.

*V*

I sit in a booth next to a window, the distant mountains streaming by. Katniss is sitting on the opposite side of the room, looking at a book of sketches Cinna gave her to look at. She's wearing a simple shirt and sweatpants, her hair falling in a velvet curtain around her shoulders, her silvery grey eyes focused on the pages spread before her.

No matter how I felt about her, she didn't feel the same way. She had other choices, other things she could do. But not me. I was stuck from the first moment I saw her.

I loved Katniss Everdeen.

But she didn't love me.

But that was okay. Because at least I got to be close to her, spend time with her. It didn't matter that she didn't love me.

Because I still loved her.

Love. The best kind of poison; the only thing that kept you alive as it slowly killed you.

I turned to the window and watched as the storm dropped rain, the water zooming past us and leaving streaks on the window.


	5. all the flowers

**Sorry for taking so long to update. I've been uber busy. Things are really going to start heating up real soon. :D This chapter is dedicated to GraceVictoria and Meeko the cat, for being the first people to review Chapter One. Thanks guys! And, to KateTheFanFictionist, for calling my chaps 'poetic and amazing.' THAT made my day. Now, without further ado, I present chapter 5 of stars.(- how I will refer to this story, cuz the name is long :/) Enjoy.**

_fall_**into**fantasy

t h e r e **a r e** n o **s t a r s** i n **t h e** s k y

5. all the flowers in the world

I get on the train after Cinna and my prep team do, but instead of going to the main car, I turn left and head toward the back of the train. I only have to go through two cars before I reach the platform at the end, and I lean on the railing as the train starts to move forward, the wind blowing my hair to the side.

Prim is holding onto my mother, waving as the train speeds away. Her eyes catch me and a large smile breaks across her face, and her hand moves more frantically; she's hoping I see her.

How will I protect her from the upcoming Games? Being related to a victor doesn't protect you from the Reapings each year; if anything, it increases your chance of getting chosen. I can't volunteer for her again; victors must simply sit by and watch… and, she'll have to face whatever horrors the Capitol has invented for the Quell. I have to protect her, save her from the Capitol.

But that's really what it's come to now; a large game of strategy played by President Snow that I have to play in order to keep everyone I love alive.

I am the queen; the most deadly, the one who goes against him, that's unpredictable, and Peeta is my king, who holds fast in hard circumstances and has a way of weaving words together.

One big game of chess.

Before taking all of them out, and everyone else, he has to go through me.

But I won't let it happen; I'll protect them all.

I blow a kiss to Prim, and she catches it and hugs it close to her heart.

If only it were enough to protect it.

*V*

Rain patters the window next to my seat, the storm blowing all it has at us, this kind of weather always makes me think I'm in the arena again; that the Gamemakers are trying to kill us; that it's all fabricated. It's always been hard to believe that nature, which produces the soft rainy days and the blossoming spring mornings; could produce something this violent.

But, then again, maybe everything _is_ fake. A large hoax. Maybe everything is staged; a large show; entertainment for the Capitol.

President Snow has the power to do that. He can make any kind of 'accident' for me, stage it like a seemingly unfortunate event.

My death could already be decided.

I could die now.

But that would be too sudden. The Districts are expecting their tour.

He could wait until I'm home; kill me in front of my family… Haymitch, Gale, Prim, my mother… Peeta…

The sound of something dropping breaks me out of my trance. I look down and see Cinna's book of sketches splayed across the floor, the dark blue cover blending in with the grey carpet. I stoop over and grab it, my thumb marking the place where I left off. Cinna told me to look through it and pick one that I liked, so I'd have at least a small opinion on what I had to wear.

So far I've only liked two: the first is a strapless midnight blue dress that ends just below the knees, and has small back slits in the sides, front, and back with scattered silver sparkles on them that are supposed to burst open when I twirl; so the blue, black and silver sparkles swirl together in harmony. It's a departure from all the red, yellow and orange I've been wearing as girl on fire, and it seems more subtle, like the shadows that cast over the trees in my forest.

In other words, it's more like me.

The second is a black skirt that spreads outward, so even though it's short it looks larger than it actually is. The bottom half under the waist is made of a series of ruffles and what looks like feathers. It looks beautiful; elegant.

All of Cinna's sketches and designs are amazing, but those two stood out to me. I think all the bright colors are finally getting to me.

I look up at Peeta sitting across the room, and I see him staring out the window, his glacier blue eyes focused on something in the distance. Hid face is calm, relaxed, his mouth in a straight line. He looks… sad. Troubled.

The blue notebook still in my hand, I stand up and walk over to the circular seat, and plop down next to him. Instantly his expression brightens. "Hey… you okay?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"You seemed… sad a second ago." He smiles. "I'm fine. Just wondering how I'm going to pull through my speeches." I've been wondering that myself. The first stop in the Tour is in District 11, wear Rue was from. I've considered simply not speaking at all, letting Peeta do all the talking. But how can I when he's having trouble with them himself?

I place Cinna's sketchbook on the table, loop my arm through his, and lean my head on his shoulder. He tenses for a second, and I steal a glance at his face. He seems a little surprised; he wasn't expecting it in the slightest. Maybe I'm wrong, but isn't that what friends do? Comfort each other when things go wrong? I'm not much of an expert on friends; I'm normally a quiet person. I try not to get into people's way.

"Thank you," I tell him.

He looks at me, confused. "What? Why?"

"For the bread."

"From when we were kids? I think we can let that one go."

"Without that, I would've given up. It literally saved my life."

"You've saved my life on more than one occasion, Katniss. I'm pretty sure we're even." I move so his arm is around me, and I hug him, hold him close.

After all these years, I've finally done it; I thanked him. But it wasn't just a thank you for the bread; I thanked him for the hope. The bread gave me hope; hope that we'd be alright, that nothing would go wrong.

But I still feel something nagging at me; still feel guilt. Because I know I'll never be able to thank Peeta Mellark. I'll never be able to repay him, no matter how many times I thank him.

I'll never stop owing the boy with the bread.

*V*

Any minute now the train will be stopping at the station in District 11. I sit at a window, next to the door, waiting for Haymitch and Peeta to finish getting ready. Outside, fields of sweeping green grass disappear into the distance, vibrantly colored flowers in clusters scattered everywhere. I see bright yellow flowers; primrose. The flower Prim was named after. And I know somewhere in there, there's rue, and katniss roots too.

Is that all we are now? Just flowers blowing in the wind?

Peeta arrives, and I grab his hand as Effie ushers us out, into the bright sunlight, and suddenly I'm surrounded by flowers, and all I can think of is how I have to protect my sister, and how I wouldn't trade my little primrose for all the flowers in the world.

**Sorry if it seems a little sketchy. I started writing this on my ipod, then my dad took it away and gave it back like a week later, so I was a little out of rhythm on this chap. If you thought it was weird, just consider it a strange, out-of-place prelude for what's to come. You guys will be shocked. :D**

_fall_**into**fantasy


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